


The Pudding Incident

by Geekhyena



Category: Young Wizards - Diane Duane
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Food, Consent is Sexy, Cuddling & Snuggling, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Making Out, Pudding, Under the Influence Smooching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 17:15:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/864565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geekhyena/pseuds/Geekhyena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt "Is it even possible for Roshaun to attend a court party with his girlfriend without something blowing up?"</p><p>An aphelion party goes wrong in a hilarious way, much to Roshaun's consternation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pudding Incident

**Author's Note:**

  * For [verdigrisVagabond](https://archiveofourown.org/users/verdigrisVagabond/gifts).



Disclaimer: Diane Duane owns everything, I just play around with her characters.

\-----------

Roshaun had been politely nodding as his great-aunt told the same story about her recent vacation to the famous gardens of a large city on the part of the planet opposite the Sunlands. He was continuing to feign interest, even though it was the third time he'd heard the story, when an explosion rocked the banquet hall. Acting on instinct, he'd gently shoved his great-aunt behind a column while reciting the first fifteen words of a spell that would shield him and reflect force back at its originator. He sprinted towards the corner of the hall where the explosion had occurred, the sphere of light that was his Manual already drawn from its pocket. Inwardly, he kicked himself – it was the first of one of several parties celebrating the season of aphelion, and at this particular party, a large amount of nobles and members of the royal family would be in attendance – it was the kind of target-rich environment an assassin would love. He and his father had gone over security measures in minute detail before the season began, but it looked like it had not been enough. He could only hope that the damage was not too extensive.

As he made his way across the hall, he was surprised to smell not the characteristic vinegar and ozone smell of the explosives typically used by would-be assassins, but instead the slightly acrid smell of burnt sugar. Skidding to a halt, the clouds of smoke dissipating, he found Dairine at the center of the explosion, covered in the remnants of what had formerly been a pudding fountain, looking rather dazed indeed. Her dress was torn and singed, and she was covered in pudding and machine parts, as was Spot, who was currently shaking himself like a very annoyed cat that had just stepped in something distasteful. His jaw dropped of its own volition as he took in the completely destroyed refreshments table, the singed clothing of nearby bystanders, the remnants of the fountain now embedded in the ceiling, and the small crater in the tile where Dairine now stood. 

“What in the name of the Aethyrs just happened?” he exclaimed in shock. “How in the One's name – what did you do – I – I – what happened?”

Dairine giggled, and Roshaun blinked, now taking into account that Dairine was wobbling slightly in the crater, and that her eyes were more dilated than he believed normal for a human. “I was bored, and the pudding fountain was interesting and I wanted to examine the inner mecha – mechan – the doohickey keeping it running without clogging or burning the pudding. So I was talking to Spot and we started playing around with it,” she giggled again and continued, “and I wanted to make it go faster, you know? So.....I did! And then it exploded.” She made the last statement as if it were perfectly normal for culinary appliances to explode, and that she seemingly faced such things on an everyday basis at home on Earth. However, Roshaun knew for a fact that, the toaster incident aside, appliances exploding was not part of the daily routine on Earth or on Wellakh. “There was a really big boom.”

“Dairine....” he began cautiously. “Are you well? You seem...not yourself.” 

“And now I'm all sticky and the dress is ruined,” she continued, not acknowledging his question as she tried to wipe the pudding off her hands onto her dress – an ineffective gesture, as the dress itself was covered in the viscous dessert. “Carmela is going to kiiiiillll me.....she was so excited about this dress and my hair and everything.” She grimaced. “Ack, my hair, it feels all....gloopy.” She tried to squeeze some of the pudding out of her hair, but all it did was spread it around even more. “Carmela's gonna make me go shopping with her again and watch her try on aaaallll the clothes and I will be bored out of my skull. Again.” 

People had been staring ever since the explosion. Now they were starting to snigger. Time for damage control, he realized. “Dairine, you appear unwell. Perhaps we should go someplace where you can rest?” 

“That would be an excellent idea,” came his mother's voice from behind him, and Roshaun jumped slightly. His mother's ability to sneak up on him was legendary, and often embarrassing. “Dear guests, it appears that our esteemed guest has taken a bit ill. I'm sure she'll be fine with a little rest. Perhaps she was overcome with the excitement from such a wonderful party?” Miril gently put a hand on his shoulder and murmured “Roshaun, tekeh, why don't you help her get cleaned up and settled in the suite she uses when she visits? I'm sure she'll feel better for a lie down. I'll handle things here.”

“Of course, mother.” Inwardly, he was very relieved. No one could calm down a situation like his mother. He wished he had inherited some of her mediating skills, but he had no such luck. Deciding a two-pronged approach was best, he bowed to the guests and then to Dairine. “Hev ke Khallahan, if you would? I think your suite might be more comfortable at the moment. Perhaps you would like to rest?” He gently took one arm, and began to lead her off, wincing internally as pudding got all over his robes, which were new for the holiday. It was of no matter – he could have them cleaned later, and what was important right now was getting Dairine to her suite with the most decorum possible.

“Don't rush, Roshaun,” she giggled, as she paused to scoop Spot up from where he was skidding a bit on the tile, not having worked all the pudding out of his limbs yet. “We'll get to my suite soon enough.” She punctuated her words with an attempt at playfully grabbing his rear, but missed and succeeded only in smearing pudding all over the seat of his overrobe, in full view of half the court and both of his parents. Pinching his ear in exasperation, he continued to lead Dairine out of the banquet hall and through the palace. What had gotten into her?

\----  
By the time they had reached the suite Dairine used when she visited the palace, Roshaun was even more convinced that Dairine had somehow taken ill. Her pupils were dilated, she found it difficult to balance, and her behavior was odd to the point that he was seriously concerned for her wellbeing. And yet, he could not think of a cause for such a thing. Further contemplation was seriously hindered however, by the strain of holding Dairine steady, as between her current clumsiness and the lack of traction caused by the pudding and the slick stone floors of the palace, she came very close to falling over several times. 

Finally, however, he was able to guide her to the chaise in her suite. She flopped down upon it, while Spot paused and performed a small wizardry on himself that had the effect of removing the majority of the pudding from his carapace, with the unfortunate side effect of also removing the Starfleet sticker Dairine had recently stuck to him. Spot made a small disappointed sound, and began shaking what remained of the pudding off of him, as Dairine giggled and commented that he looked silly. 

Now that Dairine was occupied in making “pudding angels”, as she called them, on the chaise, Roshaun paced, trying to figure out what could have caused such aberrant behavior. None of the other guests appeared to be affected, which precluded poisoning – unless the assassin had tried to poison just Dairine, but how would they ensure that just Dairine was affected? The only Wellakhit that knew anything about human physiology were the members of his immediate family, and none of them had any reason to poison Dairine. Unless.....unless it had been an accident. Thinking back, he recalled an embarrassing incident at the Crossings when Kit had bought snacks from a vending machine and had been rushed to the infirmary shortly thereafter when what had appeared to be a simple blueberry muffin had actually been made with a grain that induced a green, itchy rash in humans. Kit had not been the only casualty of that particular vending machine, though Ronan refused to discuss the aftereffects of consuming “Dr. Belcher's Magical Flashing Bug Juice”, other than commenting that it had been “tasty, but not worth the trouble afterwards.”  
Perhaps something in the Wellakhit food had caused an odd reaction in Dairine? His mother had instructed the cook to make sure that the food available was safe for humans, but what if there had been a mistake? He waved his hand in front of Dairine's face to get her attention. “Dairine, look at me, please?” 

“Yeah?”

“What did you eat at the party? Do you remember specifics?”

“Not really? Um....there were those green sugary things wrapped in leaves, the little sandwich-thingies with the meat and the green stuff that tastes like cucumber but isn't, those berry tart things....those really fancy pastries with the spices and the stars made out of icing on them, and the pudding fountain! That was neat – just take a bit of fruit and dip it in or something and it looks pretty, too.”

“But you have had all of those before – in fact, I think the cook made those berry tarts specifically because of how nice you were to him the last time we had them. I think he finds you amusing...” He was about to continue down another line of questioning when it hit him. “Dairine, you mentioned pastries with stars made out of icing on them?”

“Yeah, they were good! Spicy! Like, sweet and spicy and really tasty.”

“And omedai are only served at aphelion, because they are traditional for the festival, and the okete flowers for the filling are only ripe around this time of year and they are perishable, so of course you would not have had the pastries before. The cook would assume they'd be on the menu since they always are and you would not dare have an aphelion party without them if you could afford the ingredients....of course, that must be it!” He sighed. “I should have remembered those. They are always such a part of aphelion celebrations that I did not even think....but now that I know you ate them, we know what to avoid in the future. Do you remember how many of those you ate?”

“Um....lots? They were really good and I was hungry, okay?” 

“She had seven of them,” Spot commented. “And now that my diagnostic sensors are cleared of pudding, I am able to see that her heart rate is elevated, and she appears to be under the influence of something with euphoric effects. She is certainly acting odd...if you provide information on the chemical composition of these flowers it may be possible to enact a wizardry to make her feel better.”

“I feel good already!” Dairine protested.”

“We need to make sure there will not be any lingering effects,” Roshaun pointed out. “You may feel good but you were staggering and your pupils are still dilated. I do not wish for you to be even more ill later because I did not make sure you were all right.”

“With your permission, I could run a scan and see what exactly the effects are,” Spot offered. “I saw enough to know that you have significantly deviated from your baseline, but you have established that I am to run no invasive scans without your permission. If we know what is going on, that would allow us to determine if intervention is needed.”

Dairine rolled her eyes. “I feel fine! Different, but like, a fun kind of different? It's like sensory overload but in the best way and it's fun! Stop worrying.”

“Dairiiiiine,” Spot said in a tone that was not quite pleading, but close. “I do not wish to see your functionality diminished. Organics are fragile!”

Another eyeroll, but this time she smiled. “Fine, go ahead.”

“Please hold still. Movement interferes with the scanning process.”

Dairine paused in the middle of rolling side to side on the chaise and managed to lie still long enough for Spot to hop up on the chaise, avoiding the smears of pudding, and scan her, a grid-like wave of light passing over her body as he did so. 

“Scan complete!” Spot chirped after a few minutes. “When combined with the baseline readings I have been taking of you recently, it appears that the majority of your bodily functions are unaffected and are likely to remain so. The euphoric effects and sensory overload you describe, and likely the alterations to your physical homeostasis, are caused by alterations to your neurochemistry induced by the consumption of that particular spice, but appear to already be tapering off. Your heart rate, for example, is almost back to normal. However, in the future I would avoid this particular substance, as it is clear that it does have psychoactive effects.”

“So it's making my brain weird temporarily and futzing around with my balance and body as a result, and that's why I'm feeling so euphoric and weird and hyperstimulated, like everything I touch feels so good and smells so good and I just want to roll around in it like a cat in a catnip patch, but it's wearing off so just don't do it again?”

“.....essentially, yes,” Spot confirmed. 

“Hokay! You hear that, Roshaun? No more of that stuff for me, even though it has really fun effects.” She looked slightly disappointed. “Might as well enjoy it while it lasts, then!” She grabbed his arm, and, catching him off balance, pulled him down beside her onto the chaise. “Snuggles?” 

“What?” Roshaun tried to keep himself from falling off the chaise, which was meant to hold one person and which made for a very tight and slippery fit, given both Dairine's presence and the smeared pudding.

Dairine rolled on her side and pulled him closer, which he accepted, as it meant he was no longer in danger of falling off. “Can we snuggle for a bit? Everything feels really good right now and I just sort of want to ride it out and enjoy it.” 

Her arms were around his waist, and her breath was hot on the back of his neck as she spoke, and he found that he didn't really mind that even more pudding was getting smeared on him. He'd already written the clothes off after she'd gotten pudding all over them earlier, and the slight sticky feeling was more than made up for by the way she was starting to plant quick, eager kisses on the back of his neck. He blushed, his coppery skin acquiring a scarlet tinge, and started to relax against her before stiffening, eyes wide.

“Should we – I mean, that is...” He detested the way she flustered him like this, robbing him of coherency. “You are still under the effects of those pastries. Should we be doing this?” 

Dairine sighed, resting her cheek against his shoulder. “I'm not drunk, Roshaun. Just....giggly. Like, everything touching me feels really good, and the way you feel like this, even just snuggled up, it feels like every nerve ending is lit up and it's a happy sort of feeling. And I like it. And maybe I'm a little more uninhibited than I would be normally. But I'm still....you know.....me, on a fundamental level. I'm not doing anything I wouldn't do....or want to do...if I wasn't feeling like this. It just sort of feels extra good, you know? And I want to take advantage of it feeling extra good because you....even when we're just like, snuggling on the couch watching a movie and smooching a bit, I really like it and I know you like it....” She trailed off for a bit, thinking. “I just want to cuddle and smooch a bit, that's all. No going further than we already have, no doing anything we haven't already. Promise.”

He relaxed against her, nodding. That did make sense. “If you are certain, then.” He shifted so that he could face her, and she smiled at him. Her pupils were starting to shrink back down to normal size, and her face was still splotched and smeared with pudding. She was biting her lip in the way that meant she was somewhat nervous but would never admit it, and which he privately found to be adorable and rather irresistible. Leaning in, he gently kissed her, slowly and gently, letting her set the pace even as he savored the feeling. She responded by wrapping an arm around his neck and playing with the collar of his shirt as she pulled him closer. When they broke for air, she rested her forehead against his, smiling.

“See?” she said. “Totally certain, and nothing we haven't done before.” She giggled. “Although before, you didn't have pudding on your face.”

“Which is entirely your fault. These robes were brand new and I am uncertain if the launderers will be able to save them.”

“Sorry.” She kissed his cheek, taking the opportunity to lick away a smear of pudding as she did so, and giggled again. “I doubt you're really that upset, though.”

He thought of several different answers he could offer to that, but decided to simply rest his cheek against hers. “Not really, no.” 

“Good.”

They lay like that for a while, just snuggling into each others' embrace, the soft sighs and happy murmurs of contentment punctuated by slow, lingering kisses and the occasional giggle. When Miril found them hours later, they were both sound asleep, snuggled up against each other, Spot curled up at their feet. Smiling broadly, she closed the door as silently as she had opened it, and let them be.


End file.
